My diet has really gone to hell over the past few weeks because of my reaction to this whole “EMDR” experience… and it’s just happenstance but changing medications just before starting off on a light jaunt through my most significant clinical depressions was probably not the smartest plan I’ve ever had.
As a result of the latter I’m pretty sure I’m going back on the Seroquel in November. My extremely high blood sugar counts, which were almost cut in half this past Spring by the Glyburide, have remained the same since stopping the Seroquel a week ago.
Because one of it’s rarer side effects is actually type-2 diabetes, the plan to stop taking the Seroquel had been in the works for the five months since I was diagnosed with diabetes. We were just deciding on something suitable as a replacement of sorts… but I missed two of my twice-monthly appointments and my psychiatrist took his vacation, so it only happened recently.
I’m using 15mgs of Remeron RD (tastes like lemon) as a sleep aid and I’m willing to give it another few weeks, but not having the Seroquel to help me sleep at night has meant my sleep quality has basically gone back to my pre-recovery days. Unlike those days I can get to sleep fairly easily, but it’s not steady and it’s not restful.
I don’t think we actually started both the switch and the EMDR during the same appointment, but once I showed a willingness to talk about certain aspects of my clinical depressions my psychiatrist broke out the headphones and we ran with the EMDR whether the switch had happened or was about to.
It’s an interesting catch-22. The clinical depressions which I haven’t dealt with at all — ever — are keeping me from taking care of myself. Not “better care”, just a basic level of “care”.
For example, I’ve been procrastinating forever to substantially change my diet to reflect my diagnosis as having type-2 diabetes. I’ve been lying to myself for months now, like how I won’t eat dessert at my parents’ Sunday dinners, but I’ll eat a chocolate bar everyday. Or how I won’t drink Pepsi but Diet Pepsi is okay, and Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi is an even bigger lie because I’m still drinking two to three Litres of aspartame every day.
And it has been two to three Litres a day… there’s four Litres in a gallon. And instead of having meals mixed with different foods I’m still frying up three large sausages for a midnight supper.
But starting to deal with those issues, even if it’s as simple as thinking about events while holding blinking lights and wearing headphones, has left me vulnerable to attacks from myself from having never dealt with those issues.
Like how I’ve gained ten pounds in the month since the first EMDR appointment from drinking regular pop instead of diet and 2% milk instead of 1%. Then there was all the extra chocolate and the chips and ice cream and Sunday dessert and blah and blah. Since the appointment, since really looking at the events I’ve never dealt with, I have just absolutely given up on myself.
The weekend after the first EMDR appointment two weeks ago would have been the time when, if I were an alcoholic, I would’ve walked into a convenience store to buy some bottles of Listerine and grape pop. But I’m not an addict so I looked at my medications and thought “this would be so much easier to deal with if I brought the manic depression back.”.
But I took the pills.
And the most important thing is I haven’t been suicidal. I’ve punished myself, I’ve abused the inside of my body more in the past few weeks than I have since I stopped binge drinking, but I have not thought suicide would be better than living.
I have had no fantasies of people mourning at my funeral. These are the most emotional, most complicated and most damaging aspects of my clinical depressions coming forward for the first time, and I feel like I’m reacting somewhat normally.
Talking to my psychiatrist this past Friday about what I had done to myself between appointments made me think about what was going on… kind of like connecting the dots. But then I got home and over the next eight hours I drank sixteen Litres of Diet Pepsi (four gallons).
And it was the gallons of Diet Pepsi that woke me up to the damage I was doing. Early Saturday morning, as I was using the last of the pop to take my bedtime doses of Glyburide, Remeron and my Lithium, that was when I… I guess I came to a conclusion.
It seems so small, but when I woke up yesterday I threw out the last bits of unhealthy food from my fridge, and since then I’ve cooked proper diabetes-fighting meals and only had two small cans of diet pop.
It seems so small… I’ve cooked some meals. I’ve eaten fruit. I haven’t had any pop. Compared with what’s coming it just feels so small.
And there is so much to do and so many things to work out… and I’ve started and stopped eating healthy so many times, and there’s still the confused matter of how my broken sleeping patterns effect my diabetes and how I’m reacting to the recent assaults coming from the natural clinical depressions.
And most of it scares me, especially because I don’t know how I’m going to react to any of this. Watching the hockey game last night the announcer talked about how one young player moved like his father. I am not sentimental but I nearly lost it… and breaking down, which is something I will do soon, is something I have no experience with. None. The last time I cried I was eleven-years old.
And breaking down at this point feels like I’d be doing it without knowing why, or in reaction to the wrong thing… I don’t know.
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore… I’ve never had any experience with this. I think I need some really good sleep.